


For Days Like This

by Apple_Fairy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Fairy/pseuds/Apple_Fairy
Summary: Hot weather, a long work day, and a tired commute home. There are a lot of things Kiku endures in his old age. But today, he receives something of a reward. Kikuasa, short drabble





	For Days Like This

**Author's Note:**

> A self-indulgent piece written as a form of stress-relief. Really, I just wanted to describe Arthur's legs. I hope you can enjoy! Thank you for reading!

It’s hot as hell outside. There’s no prettier way to put this because it’s exactly that kind of heat that fries your brain.

Kiku is riding the train back home in a sleepy and suffering kind of lull. He struggles to keep his eyes open, and his limbs are aching. He’s getting old. For what is probably the thousandth time, he’s having the dreadful realization that he’s getting old. He realized a long time ago that rapid modernization had its benefits and its downfalls.The train is dyed a bright, obnoxious orange and he can see the dust filtering through the sunlight. He’s surrounded by people also in transit, isolated and recovering, a brief reprieve from something. Kiku is sweating in his suit. He can’t tell you how many summers he’s endured, but he can tell you it never gets easier. Even with the invention of the air conditioner he’s still hasn’t built a strength against it. Kiku tilts his head back and closes his aching eyes. The painful hum of a headache throbs near his brow, low but relentless. He wonders what he’ll do first when he gets home. Dinner, maybe. Bath, most likely. It dawns on him that he’s not alone.

It was an easy enough thing to slip his mind when he’s in this sort of haze. He’d almost completely forgotten about Arthur.

He was spending his time off visiting Kiku. However, even if he was on vacation it didn’t mean Kiku was. These things just happen and they’d rather take what chances they could get, then wait for another free month to pop up. You don’t get picky in long distance relationships. And besides, they’re adults. They don’t need to be with each other at all hours.

Arthur, spoiled and lucky, had decided to stave off on sight-seeing this time around. “I don’t need anything special.” He had shrugged, “I just think it’d be nice to stay with you.”

The statement had left Kiku’s heart in a tizzy. It was incredibly sweet to be told his company was enough. In a way he could almost imagine him and Arthur were like a married couple, even if it was only for a few weeks. Besides, he didn’t have the time to do the usual tourist stuff. Right now, happiness was eating together and bathing together and watching silly dramas on TV until one of them dozed off and they turned in for the night. In a way they’ve made themselves a comfy, if chaste love nest. It’s painfully domestic and Kiku is an old soul who’s a sucker for these kinds of things. But right now, he’s regretting the fact that he wasn’t more indulgent. 

Before he had left that morning, he had told Arthur to not use the air conditioning. Kiku’s just old fashioned like that, and Arthur is similarly set in his old ways. It saves money. But now Kiku is dreading returning to a stuffy apartment. His suit feels heavy. His work day had been taxing. If he was alone he would’ve gone to a cafe to cool down but he’s not. He half considers just calling Arthur beforehand but he’s too lazy to get his phone. A conversation seems unusually daunting and unnecessary. Kiku wrestles with this decision for awhile before his stop is announced and it’s decided for him. He opens his eyes, vision bleary, and gathers his things. Kiku loosens his tie in a vain hope that it would be of some help.  

Next time they should vacation somewhere cold. With snow. He wants an excuse to drink hot chocolate and see Arthur in sweaters.

When Kiku gets back to the apartment, it’s quiet. It’s also not as stuffy as he thought it’d be. No one responds when he says he’s home and thinking nothing of it, he just changes his shoes, grabs a cold water from the fridge, and goes to investigate. Kiku presses the bottle against his forehead, a sharp comfort for his headache. When he looks through the bedroom doorway, he finds Arthur, and the image makes Kiku’s breath catch in his throat.

He wonders if it's cliched to compare your lover to a marble statue. He has to admit Arthur’s not even better than a marble statue anyway, because bodies are uneven and imperfect and aren’t carved by hand with precision or love. But looking at him he has to admit marble statues don’t amount to anything because they don’t have a lover’s warmth or perfect timing.

He’s curled up on his bed ( _ their _ bed), asleep with the window open. Arthur’s hair is ruffled and shining in the light of the sunrise. His cheeks are slightly flushed and he’s kicked off the sheets, creating a mess of creases and fabric to frame him. He’s only wearing a white button up and a pair of boxer briefs. Kiku gulps.

The air feels clean in the room, it smells of grass and heat. The air conditioning is off, just as he had asked. It is quiet, save for the muffled and calming sounds of the neighborhood. Kiku shrugs off his suit jacket and wonders how he’s supposed to focus on anything else right now. 

He’s just so  _ damn _ lucky.

After he hangs up his jacket, Kiku sits gently on the edge of the bed. He unscrews the cap on the bottle and takes small sips, careful not to stir him. It just doesn’t feel right. He should probably wake him up. He should probably go start dinner for them. He could even go draw a bath. But also Kiku’s limbs are still sore, and this moment feels so nice. He just can’t look away.

To say that Kiku doesn’t enjoy Arthur is a lie. It wouldn’t make sense either considering how hard he has fought for this relationship. No, it’s just that Kiku is subtle about it. He’s not one to announce his feelings. Everything Kiku does is done with a quiet and soft grace, that shames the idea of performance for the sake of attention. Of course he loves Arthur. And as a by product, of course he enjoys him. So in that moment, in a heated bedroom near the end of the day, Kiku drinks in this image until he gets every last drop.

Kiku probably has a type, he’s sure. He’s just never thought about it. He can’t rightly tell you if Arthur’s his type (the initial attraction was never about that in the first place). However, he can tell you this: Arthur’s well built. He’s not muscular but Kiku still enjoys the way he looks in shirts and how he feels under his hands. Kiku marvels at how well built a body can be, all these pieces put together to form something so lovely. Arthur’s collar bone is hard and sharp and it curves to his broad shoulders. Following this shape with his eyes, Kiku goes down the length of Arthur’s arms, to relaxed hands lax besides his face. Kiku loves his hands; his fingers are long enough for needle work and they’re calloused from war. He’s always lived roughly and it shows. When they intertwine fingers, their hands fits perfectly together. It was one of the many ways they were able to fit so well.

Kiku’s eyes drift downwards. He refuses to linger. Arthur’s hips are easy on the eyes, sure, but Kiku is more respectful then that. What he does linger on instead are Arthur’s legs.

Arthur’s tall. Taller than him. It shows.

They’re lovely, long things. In the sunlight they almost glow, bare and smooth. Kiku follows the line and curves of them, the muscle of the thighs and calves, the dainty turn of the ankles. There are faint scars here and there, an unavoidable consequence of immortality, but Kiku doesn’t care. In fact, in their more intimate moments, he loves to trace them with his hands and kisses, finding them like landmarks and making sure they were still right where he had left them. Kiku won’t, but he could, tell you that the places where Arthur bruises the most are the sides of his thighs and the delicate skin of his neck. Arthur’s legs are bent, curled and flushed and Kiku is tempted to run his hands along their length. He wants to know if they’re warm. He wants to feel the places that are hard from bone and soft with flesh. He doesn’t need to know (because he knows it very well). But he does want it badly.

“Welcome home.”

Kiku startles out of his trance, and looking up he finds Arthur sleepy, smiling, and finally awake. His voice was low and vague, trying to find its footing. Kiku blushes, caught in the act, some kind of shame crawling against his stomach. He looks away, even though he feels Arthur shift on the bed.

“You should’ve woken me up.” Arthur tells him. Kiku looks at a random point in the wall, trying to focus on anything but Arthur and keeps his hands busy by screwing the cap back on his water. He gulps. He feels like a cat caught with the canary. The heat of the room comes back to him, the cold of the bottle in his hand. He had almost forgotten anything else had existed.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” He tries to come up with something, anything, “Were you tired?”

“It was so bloody hot.” Arthur shifts again, stretching, “I couldn’t help myself. I kept dozing off”

“I didn’t know you took siestas.”

“Don’t call it that.” Arthur sounds more awake now, “Next you’ll catch me gorging on pasta.”

Kiku smiles. He looks back at Arthur, who looks relaxed and ruffled. One side of his face is red from the sheets. Kiku realizes Arthur probably needed this vacation more than he thought. If Arthur was uptight and prideful in his day to day life, now he was the picture of comfort.

“Kiku,” Arthur spoke, “you look like hell.”

Kiku couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t feel offended because it was true. He also couldn’t help laughing because no matter how nice of a vacation you gave Arthur, you couldn’t change that blunt attitude. Arthur reaches over then, and taking Kiku off guard, grabs the water bottle from his hand. Kiku watches, fascinated, as he opens it and takes a drink, his throat clear to see. When he’s done, he puts it on the nightstand and smiles. Kiku isn’t angry because they’ve been together so long that he knows what moments like this mean. It’s a frightening but exciting thing to be on the same wavelength with someone. It meant that something was wordlessly agreed on, but then there was the decision of who should move first.

Arthur reaches over, brushing Kiku’s hair out of his face and Kiku leans into his touch, closing his eyes. 

“Maybe you should take a bath.” Arthur offers. Kiku shakes his head, still pressing his cheek against Arthur’s palm. It’s warm. Even though the world was blisteringly hot, Arthur’s body warmth was a soothing oasis in comparison.

“Are you hungry?”

Kiku shakes his head again.

“Then what  _ do  _ you want?”

Kiku opens his eyes, a lazy smile sliding across his face. He leans forward then and Arthur gives out a small noise of surprise as Kiku embraces him and they fall back into the soft sheets. Arthur stares up at the ceiling, Kiku heavy on his chest. He blinks.

“So,” Arthur says finally, “you want to be spoiled.”

Kiku looks up at him, still smiling. Arthur ruffles his hair, amused.

“I didn’t think you had this side to you.”

“Even I have these moments.” Kiku muttered, resting his cheek against Arthur’s chest. “I had a long day. Can I just rest here for now?”

Arthur gives a small ‘Mmm’ as approval and Kiku closes his eyes, focusing on the sound of Arthur’s heartbeat. It’s low and deep and wonderfully present. Kiku’s legs and feet are still aching, and he considers the body and it’s constant healing and breaking. A natural man-made machine that could be efficient and lovely, cosmetic and practical, complex and simple all at the same time. Kiku is mature enough to know the things he wants in this world. He knows that sometimes hard work doesn’t deserve rewards and that the world is far more complicated then to feel like it owes him. However, Kiku is still human (to the extent that you can call him this). He still has wants. If a body pressed against a body can amount to anything, it’s still a primal and simple pleasure he wants to indulge in time to time.

Enough words. Kiku runs a hand down Arthur’s thigh.

Instantly, Arthur grabs his wrist, catching Kiku off guard. Kiku looks back up, and Arthur is watching him, somewhat intrigued.

“So there  _ is  _ something you want.”

Kiku looks away, shy.

“Tell me.” Arthur dares him.

Kiku traces circles on the side of Arthur’s thigh, eyes still averted, his actions betraying his demeanor.

“I want these legs wrapped around my waist.”

When Kiku looks back, he’s satisfied. Arthur’s face is red and he’s confident it’s not because of the heat. However, his grip hasn’t weakened, and so he tries to get Arthur’s real answer out of him.

“You don’t want to?”

“Don’t be silly.” Arthur frowns, “Of course I do.”

If anything, Kiku can rely on him to be shameless.

“What’s wrong then?”

At first, Kiku thought Arthur rolled his eyes at this, but then he realized he was looking at something. Kiku follows his gaze to the air conditioning unit above the door.

“It’s too hot for that.” Arthur explains, “I don’t want you touching me until  _ that’s _ on.”

Kiku tries not to laugh. When he reaches over Arthur to get the remote he feels him removing his tie, undoing the buttons on his shirt. Kiku makes some offhand comment on how spoiled Arthur is. Arthur replies that it’s Kiku’s fault he’s like this. When the machine comes to life, they’re plenty distracted by then. A lazy afternoon kicks into a frenzy, into quick and passionate kisses and hungry searching. Kiku leaves love bites on Arthur’s neck and chest in an attempt to leave his mark on the body he so loved. There is a slow, but steady rocking, moans muffled into Kiku’s shoulder. He pays special attention to his legs. He just feels so damn lucky for those legs.

There’s something good about hard work and endurance. There’s something so savory about the aftermath. Life is the constant cycle of responsibility and play, a sorely needed balance kept in place. Arthur grips Kiku’s hair and leans his forehead against his. Their breath is heated and shared and Kiku studies his face for a moment. When Arthur catches him staring, he smiles and pulls him into a eager kiss.

At that moment Kiku thinks that there is nothing better then coming home to good things. 


End file.
